


Nicki Minaj, Pancakes, and Sex on the Kitchen Table

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic, Humor, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam watched Cas swiveling his hips in different patterns, practicing his moves. He was really good. He’d only been taking classes a few weeks, but he danced all over the apartment, and put his new moves to good use in other ways too. He held his shoulders perfectly still as he rolled his spine and circled his pelvis. After a few carefully controlled movements he let his hips loose and popped his ass out a few times. His dark hair was messy and his skin was tan, Sam standing and watching appreciatively the muscles of his back shifting as he danced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicki Minaj, Pancakes, and Sex on the Kitchen Table

Sam pulled his ear buds out, letting the cords dangle over his shoulder as he checked his watch. Twenty six minutes, not bad for his five mile morning run. Fishing his keys out of his pockets, he smiled and waved at their neighbor Ms Bennet as she came out the main door and held it open for him.

The carpet through the main hall was a little stained and the banister wobbled, but it was a pretty nice place to live. Their apartment was clean and spacious, and it was near campus. Sam only had a ten minute walk to classes from here.

He was still breathing a little heavy, heart pounding, when he wound his way up three flights of stairs to their apartment. A few wisps of hair had escaped the pony tail and were plastered to his forehead with sweat. A shower was the first item on the menu.

But then he opened the door to their apartment, tossing the keys in the bowl on the stand by the door as he kicked off his shoes. The music was loud and he could smell breakfast cooking.

_Dum di-di-day I like the dirty rhythm you play I wanna hear you callin’ my name like hey mama hey mama hey_

Sam bent forward in a stretch to touch his toes and came back up, stretching his arms above his head and his fingers brushed the textured ceiling. He tugged off his smelly socks and tossed them in the general direction of his shoes. The sun was coming in bright through the living room window, tossing rainbows across the walls.

When Sam first met Cas about a year ago in a psych class, Cas was a quiet, reclusive, very serious student. They didn’t really talk much but a mumbled ‘hello’ in passing. Sam thought he was hot, sure, but had a major stick up his ass. They got stuck together on a research project and formed a tentative friendship. Then at the end of the semester Sam decided to drag him out of his little hermit shell for drinks to celebrate.

It’s really a pity that he doesn’t remember the sex that night in full technicolor detail because he was a little too drunk.

They saw each other a lot that summer. Cas was taking summer classes, Sam was working full time. The more Sam understood that Cas had a really sheltered, really religious childhood, very strict parents that tried to control everything he did, that a lot of his reservations about enjoying, well anything really, were hang ups that he couldn’t quite let go of although he wanted to, the more determined Sam was to break through to him. All Cas really needed was a nudge, a little encouragement, some suggestions, and he took to trying new things eagerly.

The moved in together at the start of the new school year. Sam convinced Cas to lower his crazy class load of twenty four credits down to a decent eighteen. He could still maintain his scholarships, but he wouldn’t be driving himself into the ground with too much work. In his free time, Cas started picking up hobbies. Like taking a stained glass workshop last semester, hence the rainbows across their apartment from the pieces hanging in the windows. And this semester he started a belly dance class, hence Sam finding him in the kitchen shaking his ass and singing 'Hey mama hey mama hey’ as he flipped pancakes.

Sam knew that they’d be buckwheat pancakes, because Sam liked those best.

Cas was wearing blue boxers with little goldfish blowing bubbles on them. He picked the weirdest things out of Goodwill. Sam thought it was kind of cute. The butterfly tramp stamp in the small of his back was still a little scabbed but healing nicely (and Sam’s pretty sure it’ll be the first of many because Cas likes art and bright colorful things and told Sam that it made him feel like his body was really his). 

There was a mound of fresh chopped pineapple on the cutting board by the sink. The spider plant in the window was spilling down the wall, growing fat and happy. The coffee pot on top of the microwave was half empty already.

Sam watched Cas swiveling his hips in different patterns, practicing his moves. He was really good. He’d only been taking classes a few weeks, but he danced all over the apartment, and put his new moves to good use in other ways too. He held his shoulders perfectly still as he rolled his spine and circled his pelvis. After a few carefully controlled movements he let his hips loose and popped his ass out a few times. His dark hair was messy and his skin was tan, Sam standing and watching appreciatively the muscles of his back shifting as he danced.

Padding quietly over, bare feet on linoleum, Sam waited until he wasn’t flipping anything and wrapped an around his waist, nuzzling into his neck.

“Hey mama.”

Cas squawked and slapped his arm. “I’m cooking.”

“It smells wonderful, thanks for making breakfast.”

Cas grunted and slid the last pancake out of the pan onto a stacked plate, twisting around in Sam’s hold.

_When you need that, I’ma let you have it_

Sam was hard in his running shorts, but a mostly naked Cas just had that effect on him. Cas tugged out his ponytail and sifted his fingers through Sam’s hair, scratching lightly.

“Why are you always horny when you come home from runs?”

“Adrenaline high, I guess.”

Or just Cas shaking his ass to Nicki Minaj while he cooked.

_I know you want it in the worst way, I wanna hear you calling my name_

Sam squeezes his hands on Cas’ hips, kissing him softly near the warmth of the stove before pulling back. He knows that if he distracts Cas and the pancakes get cold, Cas’ll be grumpy and Sam’ll feel guilty. So he scoots over to the chopping board, and no where is really too far to get to from anywhere in the small kitchen. Popping a piece of pineapple in his mouth, the sweetness bursts tangy on his tongue. Fresh chopped pineapple is a whole different thing from canned.

There are hands on his hips, turning him around, and Cas pressing up against him leaning up on his toes to lick the juice dribbling down Sam’s chin. Sam opens his mouth so Cas can lick in there too, tasting bitter like coffee and he really needs to shave because his scruff is almost on the wrong side of scratchy. But that’s all right, Cas is hard where he nudges his hips against Sam, and he growls just a little when he bites on Sam’s lower lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling.

_I love to dance so give me more more, till I can’t stand_

Cas starts to pull away, and Sam knows that he’s just being goaded. Still, he wraps Cas up in his arms and pulls him back, because fuck the pancakes this is what he wants for breakfast. Cas laughs against his mouth, pulls on his hair and pinches his hip. When Sam squirms as Cas starts to tickle him, Cas takes the upper hand and man handles Sam over to the table, pushing him up on it and settling between his spread thighs.

Cas is a hell of a lot stronger than you might think to look at him. He’s a runner too. There used to be a time when Sam thought jogging with Cas in the morning could be a cute couples thing that they did together, but that thought died long ago. Cas isn’t much of a morning person and he likes to run after his classes are done for the day.

_Starships were meant to fly, hands up and touch the sky_

Sam cradles Cas’ face as he pulls him closer to kiss him, wide lips and he’s got a wicked tongue, Cas’ hands rested on his thighs moving up to tug the waist of his running shorts down. Sam shifts and scoots, lifts up one side then the other as Cas pulls his pants down and tosses them aside. Sam reaches up behind his neck and tugs his shirt off, ear bud cords messy and tangled and he hears the mp3 player clatter on the table and that’s all right. He does make sure to grab the fruit bowl and twist over to set it on a chair so they don’t knock fruit all over the kitchen again.

Naked, sweaty skin sticking to the sturdy old wood table, Sam leans back on his hands as Cas kneels between his legs. Hooking his legs over Cas’ shoulders, he gasps when Cas sinks his wet mouth halfway down the shaft, eyes fluttering closed and humming. Jesus he’s got a mouth on him. Cas has never been able to take Sam all the way down but he tries, he really really tries. Sam admires his determination.

Pink lips stretched around him, Cas strokes the base where his lips don’t reach, spit running messy down and it just slicks the way under Cas’ firm grip, tongue and lips and fingers curling around Sam while he shakes, muscles used and sore from his run burning and he feels a little light headed.

_You know we getting hotter and hotter_

Goddamit. He really doesn’t mind Cas playing music around the apartment, even if he doesn’t like Cas’ music that much. He loves that Cas wants to try everything out and has the most eclectic taste ever, from Mozart to R.E.M. to Lynyrd Skynyrd to Nicki Minaj. But this is not good music to have sex to.

Tugging on Cas’ hair, not in the encouraging kind of 'doing so good’ way he usually does, he pulls Cas off when he really doesn’t want to.

“Babe let me turn the music off real quick.”

_Sexy sexy that’s all I do, if you need a bad bitch_

Cas glares at him, looking utterly offended to have been interrupted and Sam just shoots him a smile as he tries to squirm off the table and go turn the music off. Cas pins him, a hand on his hip, while Cas gropes to the side where the fruit bowl is on the chair. He picks up an orange and hurls it at the stereo, missing by a mile, and not even caring that he completely failed to turn it off before returning to nuzzling at Sam’s balls.

_Pound the alarm_

“I can’t do this, oh god I’m sorry just gimme a second okay, one second.”

Sam nudges Cas away and stands, striding across the kitchen in like three steps and shutting the music off. It didn’t even take a minute. Seriously.

“I don’t like being interrupted.”

His voice is rough and Cas has stood up and is looking at Sam in that way he does sometimes that means Sam’s in trouble. The good kind of trouble.

He still tries to placate Cas, “I know, I can’t get in the mood to that, I’m sorry.”

“You’re dick was in the mood.”

“My dick’s always in the mood.”

Cas crowds him up against the counter the stereo sits on, slides his goldfish boxers down so he can rut up against Sam, cocks bumping and sliding hot over his sweaty skin, nimble fingers tweaking at his nipples while Cas sucks a livid bruise against his chest, his neck, moving up with hot breath trailing over Sam’s skin until he’s sucking on an earlobe and yeah that’s it Sam’s done he’s mush, Cas can do whatever he wants.

He’s pliant when Cas pulls at him, tugs his arm, nudges his waist, brings him back over to the table and turns around so he can be bent over it. Sam wants to run his hands all over Cas’ body, his compact muscles, twist him up because he dances and he does yoga and he can actually lock his ankles behind his head and it’s all manner of hot, but this is good too, yeah, Sam likes getting handled and bent over too.

Sam smells the pungent aroma of olive oil and he doesn’t really know why they keep doing this, having sex in the kitchen, but for some reason it’s one of Cas’ favorite places to have sex that’s not in the bedroom. It just started with crowding each other up against the cupboards and kissing and touching when this was all so new and it was their apartment and they wanted to mark everything in it like weirdos. But then sometimes Cas would just drop to his knees and suck Sam off and before he knew it they were fucking on the kitchen table almost regularly.

It is nice though. It smells like fresh brewed coffee, it’s still warm from Cas cooking, and there’s something comforting and welcoming about being in the kitchen where they cook together and feed each other. Sam braces his elbows on the table, back arched up, and he knows just how far apart to widen his stance so he’s not too high up and not too low down.

And Cas, Cas is just the right girth and length he can push in without any prep and it almost hurts but Sam loves the overwhelming suddenness of it that steals the breath from his lungs. Cas shoves in deep and grinds, hands gripping Sam’s hips, and Cas starts to twist his pelvis around like he’s dancing still to some rhythm in his head that Sam can’t hear. Really, Sam is just grateful that they turned the music off first because if 'Truffle Butter’ came on while they were fucking on the kitchen table he’d probably lose it. They can listen to Cas’ music later, while they eat pancakes.

Cas has always been good at this, even when he was too rigid and inexperienced and over analytic, he was good. But christ Sam is so grateful he’s decided to start taking dance lessons because there’s a fluid ease to his motions and he twists himself against and into Sam’s body, cock nudging into every tender spot and dragging, and it’s so so good.

There are some days that Cas’ll take his time, sliding in and out of Sam’s body so slowly it nearly works him up to tears with frustration but it’s always worth it. And there days like today that Cas’ barely gives him any adjustment period before he starts to slam into him hard enough that the table would be juddering across the floor if it wasn’t already pushed up against the wall. Sam groans and drops his head to the table and all his effort is on staying upright while Cas snaps his hips with a dirty grind that stretches him out and fills him up.

Sam’s gasping and trembling when Cas taps his outer thigh, nudges his leg up. Sam gets with the program and bends his leg pulling it up to fold underneath his chest so he’s half kneeling on the table, one foot still on the floor with Cas’ hands keeping him steady. One leg drawn up like this, and he’s spread even wider, the angle just so. Keeping one hand braced on the table, he drops onto his shoulder face pressed to smooth wood and reaches his other hand down between his legs.

Cas holds on to him and leans forward over Sam’s back, thrusting downward into him and relentless against his prostate and it doesn’t take Sam more than a few tugs before the scorching tension in his belly snaps and his leg is cramping but _holy shit holy shit fuck_ , blunt nails scratch against the table and his head goes fuzzy while his body thrums in the aftershocks and Cas is grunting as he shoves deep, deep and falls against Sam.

Sam weakly pushes his folded up leg back down, chest draped across the table and his arms splayed, Cas sprawled on his back like a blanket. Sam mumbles and gives a half hearted nudge. Cas nips at his shoulder and rubs his face into Sam’s hair. They eventually peel apart with a wet slick squelch. Hey, Sam needed a shower after his run anyway.

Cas pats his butt a few times, mumbling nonsense, before padding over to the stereo and turning it back on.

_Make me come alive come on and turn me on…_

Sam laughs breathlessly and pushes himself up off the table. He contemplates whether he’d rather eat first or shower as he feels come trickling down between his thighs. Cas doesn’t bother to put his boxers back on, just scratches his belly and pecks Sam on the lips.

Cas steps over to the kitchen sink and soaks a washcloth before tossing it over to Sam. He dries his hands and holds one over the stack of pancakes he’d made before they got distracted.

“They’re cold.”

Sam shrugs as he wipes down the table, “So warm them in the microwave.”

“But then they’ll get soggy.”

“So warm them in the oven.”

Cas huffs and shuffles to the oven, bending over to pull out the pans from inside before turning it on. Sam kind of loves his cute furry butt. He’s had sex with guys before Cas, but he always kind of preferred girls. He liked their smooth gentle curves and how soft girls were. But he keeps finding things every day that he loves about Cas’ body. His thick muscular thighs, his sharp hip bones even with the little pudge of his belly - which Sam loves too - the way his balls draw up when he yawns, the morning scruff on his jaw that lasts several days because he doesn’t shave that often, the deep rumble of his voice, the strength in his broad hands.

Sam loves that Cas has really taken to casual nudity around their apartment (with the exception of underwear for cooking due to that unfortunate grease splash incident that caused second degree burns on his cock and necessitated an expensive trip to the er and that one jerk nurse could barely hold back his laugh). Sam gets to see and catalogue all these little things about Cas’ body that he loves. Or maybe he just likes them so much because they’re part of Cas.

He loves that Cas scowls at the coffee pot and sings to his plants, that he cooks buckwheat pancakes because Sam likes them and dances to Nicki Minaj.

Dropping the dirty washcloth back in the sink, Sam loops an arm around Cas’ waist and draws him in, pressing a kiss to his temple. Yeah, Sam just kind of really loves Cas.


End file.
